


Cybertronian Tradition

by chocolatedisco



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatedisco/pseuds/chocolatedisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raf has a problem, and Ratchet is duty-bound to offer his assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cybertronian Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost! The original version of this fic has been deleted. I'm sorry to all those who bookmarked it, left kudos, and commented -- the support for this fic has been amazing, so I hope it manages to find its way into fans' hands once more.
> 
> This story contains exactly what the tags advertise, so please turn back if reading it would upset you.

Raf’s parents didn’t care to tell him what a magical time in his life he’d reached, Memorial High didn’t even offer Health class until eighth grade, and there sure weren’t any friends to listen to on the subject. Fortunately, he had the internet; he had to be careful with it, but basic knowledge was easy enough to find. So while he was slightly comforted by the knowledge that it was normal for someone going through puberty to have a persistent random erection (hard-- uh, difficult to even think the word), it didn’t help much when he had to bail on patrol with Bee out of embarrassment. The whirrs of disappointment when Raf told him he had extra homework were hard to listen to, but there was no way he was taking his computer off his lap when he was like this.

Eventually, everyone save Ratchet was gone, and he seemed busy with some sort of repairs. Of course, he didn’t have extra homework; he didn’t have any homework, as he’d completed it all before even leaving school. He still needed a distraction though, so he fired up his usual go-to racing game. It wasn’t as much fun without someone to play against, but it was something to concentrate on. It almost looked like his predicament would be over before he knew it until a voice grumbled from behind him, “Doesn’t look much like homework to me.”

“Ratchet!” He nearly leapt out of his seat in shock, his car driving straight into a wall as Ratchet walked around to face him. “I can explain,” he said reflexively, but then went quiet. No, he couldn’t explain. He stood by his decision to lie, but that didn’t mean he was any good at it. “Um... I...”

“Rafael...” Ratchet faltered, almost as awkward as Raf. The right words just weren’t coming easy to either one of them. “You’re overheating,” he pointed at Raf’s cheek. “If you weren’t feeling well, all you had to do was say so.”

“Blushing. It’s a sign of embarrassment. It’s not really that I’m not feeling well,” he said without thinking, and sighed. An easy way out, and his natural reaction was to be honest instead.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’ve got doctor-patient confidentiality on Cybertron too, you know,” he grumbled, annoyed as always that the humans didn’t know everything about his home planet. But regardless of his annoyance, there was still no way out of the situation. Raf took a deep breath, hoped that giant robots had some kind of equivalent so he wouldn’t have to explain too many details, and pointed at Ratchet’s crotch. Ratchet looked down, looked back at Raf, looked down again, and then his eyes widened like a cartoon character’s. “Oh. Oh! Well, that’s. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Perfectly natural,” he mumbled, almost more embarrassed himself than Raf was.

“You won’t tell Bee I lied, will you?”

“No, no, of course not. I’ll... leave you alone, then,” he said. Raf could have sworn there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, but he returned to his work, so Raf turned his attention back to his game. Just as he was about to start a new race, he was interrupted again by Ratchet turning around a few times, almost pacing for a few moments before he eventually settled on leaving his work again. “Rafael. I... hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable. I can’t say I know anything of human attitudes on the matter. But...”

“But?”

“But. It is customary, that when a young Cybertronian goes through this stage in life, that one of their elders is there to... aid them,” he said, wringing his hands. It didn’t take much for Rafael to put two and two together.

“But I’m not Cybertronian,” he pointed out, surprised by Ratchet’s offer. Raf liked to keep an open mind, especially when it came to the ‘bots, but some levels of strange just took a few moments to process.

“You think I haven’t noticed that?” he laughed. It was actually sort of funny, but Raf was a little too thrown off to join in. “You may not be Cybertronian, but you’re an Autobot at... what was it?” he tapped his chest.

“Heart.” His was beating way too fast.

“That’s the one. It may sound odd, but I’d be shirking my duty not to offer. Now, you’re not obligated to accept. There are plenty of young ones who prefer to deal with things on their own. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been turned down.” Despite Ratchet’s assurance that it wasn’t necessary, he found himself really thinking about the offer. If it was normal for Cybertronians, it would be inconsiderate to just dismiss it as strange, even though it was probably somehow illegal by Earth standards. Yet, he couldn’t help but picture Ratchet... well, touching him. He wondered just how those giant metal hands would feel. It had to be better than locking the bathroom door at home because that was the only way to get five minutes of privacy.

“We... could try?” he said, and despite the hesitance Ratchet’s face lit up for a moment; maybe he’d been turned down a little more often than he preferred to indicate.

“Alright then,” he calmed down slightly, extending his hand to Raf so he could step in. Raf set his computer aside, trying not to feel too self-conscious about the bulge in his pants; it felt silly, considering what was about to happen. He hopped into Ratchet’s hand, and Ratchet carried him over to the operating table in his laboratory. A little morbid, but the only comfortable place for someone not made out of metal to lie down. It showed Ratchet was thinking about him. If he thought about it, he could trust Ratchet with his life, so it would be strange to not trust him in this. He climbed out of Ratchet’s hand to stand on the table, unsure of what to do next. Fortunately, Ratchet seemed mostly prepared to direct the situation. “If you could take off those...”

“Clothes?”

“Clothes. Can’t say I ever understood them, no protection whatsoever,” he groused, leaving Raf chuckling as he began to disrobe. However, his amusement quickly wore off as reality began to set in. There was no way around the strangeness of getting naked for a millions of years old robot. “You’re embarrassed again,” Ratchet noted less than helpfully.

“I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t think any human’s done anything like this before,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside to lie with his sweater vest and shoes. He fumbled nervously with the button on his pants; he didn’t even like changing for gym class, and now he had Ratchet watching him in what appeared to be fascination. Still, he got them off, leaving him standing there in boxer-briefs and socks, unsure whether he was supposed to take the latter off or not. Would they be uncomfortable? Would his feet get cold? 

He settled on leaving them; he could always take them off later if he felt like it. Which brought him to the moment of truth. Nothing but a cotton-polyester blend between him and weird alien tradition sex. Ratchet looked him in the eye, and his expression soured. “Rafael, perhaps we shouldn’t do this.”

“No, I... I want to,” he used his most authoritative voice, hoping it would chase away the nervousness. He gripped his waistband with all his might, counted to three in his mind, and pulled his underwear down, his eyes slamming shut to avoid seeing Ratchet’s reaction. He hrrmed, and Raf could almost feel himself being examined. At this rate, he really would overheat.

“Well. No valve, and some strange sac, but otherwise that’s not so unusua-- sweet Primus, it twitched at me!” he suddenly shouted, and Raf couldn’t help but burst into laughter. He hadn’t expected to be put at ease like that.

“Well, yeah. Doesn’t yours?”

“Certainly not! Well. It expands and retracts, naturally, but it definitely doesn’t do that.” Raf clamped his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his giggles. Expanding and retracting sounded a lot stranger to him, but he kept that opinion to himself. “Ahem. Assuming similar function to Cybertronian interface equipment, this shouldn’t be too difficult. If you could lie down for me, we’ll get started.” It was a little clinical-sounding, but Raf found it somehow comforting, like Ratchet wasn’t putting on airs for him.

He laid down with his head on the pillow, and Ratchet leaned in close, watching closely as he gave Raf’s... thing (all the terms he could think of were too childish, scientific, or vulgar,) a cursory poke, perhaps wary of any further strange behaviour. When nothing happened, he gave it a slow, light stroke down its length, the metal of his finger almost perfectly smooth: just textured enough to make Raf give a violent shudder of pleasure, the kind he never got just hiding away in the bathroom. “Are you alright?”

“Whoa. I mean, um, yes,” he replied, flustered and feeling like the temperature in the room had just gone up ten degrees. Ratchet gave him a strange look for a moment, but quickly decided Raf’s response was satisfactory with a nod.

“Just let me know if it hurts.” With that, he returned to the task at hand. He applied just a hint more pressure the second time, pulling back Raf’s foreskin. “Fascinating,” he murmured to himself; just when Raf was starting to wonder what Cybertronian ‘interface equipment’ was like that made his so interesting, Ratchet’s finger rubbed at the sensitive tip, shooing the stray thoughts from Raf’s mind and replacing them with something primal and unfamiliar that made his hips rise to meet the touch. But the sensation didn’t last long; apparently, Ratchet was determined to explore. His hand drifted ever lower, stopping over Raf’s balls. “Is this area pleasurable as well?”

“Um. Maybe? I haven’t really had the time to check it out. Just go easy. Pretend they’ve got a big ‘fragile’ sticker on them,” he warned Ratchet, but it felt like a waste of words. His hands may have been big and heavy, but he made them seem like anything but, he was so precise and tender. Raf supposed that was part of what made him such a good doctor. And a pretty ok Cybertronian sex mentor so far. His finger traced feather-light lines through the dustings of hair that were beginning to grow; it didn’t bring on the same violent reaction that he’d had before, but it still felt good, like there was a more subtle tension starting to build inside him.

“That feels really nice,” he told Ratchet, if nothing else to keep the lines of communication open. Ratchet was definitely excited about his sudden opportunity to study human anatomy, and Raf didn’t want him getting too caught up in the moment. Ratchet smiled his reply, looking strangely... well, handsome. All this must have stirred up some strange hormones to make Raf think something like that. Or he was just a weirder kid than even he’d realized.

Ratchet chose not to roam any lower, content to focus his attentions in one place for now. He laid his hand across Raf’s length, stroking up and down. The petting motion would have been hypnotic had it not left Raf on edge, thrusting against Ratchet’s hand in a desperate plea for more. It was cathartic, letting go and being perfectly honest about his desires for once. Kind of like playing violent video games times a million.

“Ratchet,” he heard himself moan, surprised at just how breathy his voice could sound; the movement of Ratchet’s hand suddenly stopped, the glimpse Raf caught of his face before he turned away looked positively scandalized, and he could swear he heard the sound of fans whirring to life. It wasn’t too hard to field a guess at what it all meant, and Ratchet wasn’t inclined to try and hide it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding grim as if he’d committed some serious misdeed and was resigned to any punishment he received.

“It’s fine!” Raf tried to reassure him, sitting up to try and catch his eye, but Ratchet turned even further away.

“It’s supposed to be about the recipient,” he grumbled.

“I’m not supposed to be doing anything like this. So we’re both making exceptions. Besides, it... makes me feel more comfortable, actually.” At that, Ratchet faced him again, the surprise in his expression making Raf blush. Knowing that Ratchet was more than just fascinated by him... it made him feel less weird. Which was probably weird in itself, but he had more pressing things on his mind. “Can I see?”

“You’re quite the human, you know that?” he asked. “I suppose it’s only fair. But no touching!” Some sort of panel on his crotch slid back, and true to his word, it... extended. It was an impressive sight: shiny and smooth, but with neat-looking ridges, and big enough that Raf almost felt he could climb up on it. He was intrigued by what he guessed was the valve underneath too, but Ratchet prodded at Raf’s chest to get him to lie down again before he could get a proper look at it. “I’d say that’s enough.”

Raf was about to complain that Ratchet had a whole lot more time to look at him, but Ratchet lowered his head to Raf’s crotch, so close he could feel the heat of Ratchet’s mouth, and, well, that shut him up. Ratchet was cruel, just hovering there, waiting to strike, leaving Raf nearly trembling in anticipation.

“Come on, Ratchet,” he pleaded in his best needy tones, and Ratchet was visibly shaken. If Raf were any less scrupulous, he might have made some mental note of how to take advantage of Ratchet’s auditory weakness. But he was a good kid, and his reward was the slick, smooth surface of Ratchet’s tongue slowly making its way up his length, making him squirm and gasp at every centimetre of progress. When he reached the head, the torture grew to new heights, drawing out whines that barely even sounded like him anymore as his hips arched into the inviting heat. “Ratchet!” he cried the only word his mind could form.

“Rafael,” he whispered against Raf’s skin before renewing his assault on the integrity of Raf’s brain. Raf could feel that moment where sense completely destroyed thought approaching, but the words to warn Ratchet about it just wouldn’t come to him. So he just let it hit, the force of it nearly enough to knock him out. It was certainly enough to knock him back, leaving him lying there on the table, eyes closed, chest heaving and spattered in fluid.

When he rejoined the world of the living, he opened his eyes to find Ratchet stroking himself; a sight that would have given him another erection had that been physically possible. But as it was, he just enjoyed the sight, listening to his grunts as he finished, his own fluids making impressive arcs before hitting the floor until they died down, becoming a trickle that ran down his length. Raf found himself wanting to lick it off, and strangely unabashed about the thought. Must have been the endorphins. “Wow.”

“A-ah! Rafael. Nice... nice to see you’re not too exhausted,” he stammered, clearly embarrassed to have been caught in the act. Maybe he didn’t have endorphins.

“I could have helped with that,” he said, stretching as Ratchet went to grab a nearby towel.

“I hardly needed assistance.” He began to wipe the sticky substance from Raf, just as gentle as ever despite his compromised state. When he finished, he turned his attention to the floor.

“Well... maybe next time?” Raf suggested as he stood up and began to redress, and Ratchet whirled around in place, surprised yet again. Raf was almost starting to take pleasure in shocking him.

“And what makes you so sure there’ll be a next time?” he asked, folding his arms. Raf paused with his pants halfway up his legs, trying to figure out his response. After all, he definitely wanted there to be a next time.

“Wishful thinking,” he said with his best smile, and Ratchet stared at him for a moment before turning away.

“Bah. Why don’t you go play your video games?” he grumbled as he began to wipe the floor clean. Raf, for his part, just laughed softly as his still-shaky fingers tripped over buttons. He got the feeling that Ratchet was a little more receptive to the idea than “bah”, and that made him feel pretty darned great.


End file.
